


A R D E N T

by CultMother



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cults, Cultural Differences, Death, Death Threats, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gore, M/M, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Original Character Death(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stockholm Syndrome, Suffering, Superpowers, ardent, ceol, game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 16:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CultMother/pseuds/CultMother
Summary: Every day, life is a fight somewhere. Some people don't stand a chance while others have the benefit. There are the rich, and there are the poor. It's obvious who controls who in a society like ours.Ceol is a new Ardent. He has an ability that he doesn't find useful, whatsoever. However, if you believe in yourself, you can achieve heights you've never seen before. If you open your lips to speak, someone will listen. If you close them, your opinion will remain unknown.Unfortunately, for Ceol, he's not metaphorically fighting. He's actually participating in fights to the death with several others alike to him.





	A R D E N T

Bare feet slapped across the ground and the echo bounced against the walls of the seemingly deserted streets. The heavy pant of someone with need of breath in their lungs filled the air, but the feet would not stop making noise. Occasionally, the feet would slap against a small puddle of water left over from a small shower of rain, making splattering sounds. And then, at that moment, there was only silence.

Thousands of bare feet then hit the ground, a rumbling noise like a stampede consuming the streets. The first set of feet that were heard on this night began to slap against the ground at a faster pace, and their breathing became even more erratic. The other feet, however, remained in their beat and in complete harmony, as if they were stepping to an invisible, steady rhythm.

It was at this moment a metronome began to tick, accompanied by the beginning of a piano piece. Fingers angrily smashed against keys; it was the entry to a fast-paced piano solo. Somewhere, a sound more beautiful than an angel's harmony joined the noise, a high note in a voice that would remind one of gold and silver strung together with a fine silk lace.

Another sound, the sound of crying, a person who started at sobs and finally toned down to slight shuddering cries.

The feet, the piano melody, the song, and the crying all stopped simultaneously... finally, the climax was reached. The feet slapped against the ground hard, as if the owner was dashing for their lives. The piano was played at an impressively fast pace; the singing reached its highest note, the crying became louder.

And the laughter became deafening.

All of this was experienced by a singular person, who covered their ears and screamed as loudly as they could. "Stop!!!"

Everything stopped, but one thing continued to play a lonely tune. The metronome, not intent on falling into silence.

The concert had just begun, so why, it asked that person, would it stop?

I don't know, said that person, I just can't take it.

The metronome slowly swung from side to side, as metronomes did when in deep thought.

Maybe, said the metronome, you are lonely.

Maybe, that person agreed, but aren't I a dream within a dream?

"But you are awake."

The sound of crickets and cicadas screaming filled his ears as he finally zoned back into consciousness. "Ceol," A girl sat by his side; he turned his head to look at her. She had dark skin; she was indian, after all. Short black hair was her preferred style. "Ceol, are you okay?"

The inside of his mouth was dry, too dry for his liking. A sign of dehydration; he licked his chapped lips. "I'm fine, Anry." His sea-green eyes flickered around, taking in his surroundings. Yes, Ceol was in a seaside villa, being trained for something... inhumane.

The word Ardent made him sick, but that was what the old man had told him.' Ardent; you are a rare species of human being that the higher class collect and bet against each other in death matches.' Those were the exact words of the old man.

He had been told what he needed to activate the abilities that were sleeping deep beneath his flesh; Ceol had been taken from his home, much to his parents' shock. Ceol bitterly reprimanded himself for his sarcasm, reminding himself once more that his parents were dead.

He tried to explain what he was to himself in a way that still made it sound like he was human. Honestly, what else could he be? Ardent was the term used to describe someone who had abilities like a superhero would, but they only had one power. This power was weak and incomplete, needing to be trained out of the Ardent in question. Usually, the incompleteness of the ability was an Ardent's one weakness. Ceol stared at Anry for a moment; she was a simple maid, tending to every one of the old man's requests for Ceol loyally.

She was a kind woman, for sure. She gave Ceol whatever he wished for, provided it was in her ability to give. The old man had restricted Ceol from doing three things; leaving the Villa, refusing to train, and telling Anry anything about his old life. Anry, however, was quite the nosey little maid and pried into things whenever and wherever she could. Ceol did shut her down most of the time before she got too deep, but when she asked Ceol about his interests, he would add a couple of hints in there for her. But, since Anry was an air-headed type of person, he doubted she would ever pick up on them.

The old man, whose real name was Mr. Koller, entered the patio area and gestured to Anry with an angry, jerky wave of his wrinkled old hand. "Has any of his powers showed? Activated? Are they there yet, Anry?!" The old man was impatient to learn of Ceol's development. Only, Ceol hadn't developed at all; nothing, zip, nada. He would be disappointed, wouldn't he? The first fight was only a week away, and it was in New York City. Not in any sort of underground fight ring, either. The entire city of New York was the battleground. The high-class people would watch from some sort of safe vantage point.

Despite what people believed, the world was much more technologically advanced than what most originally believed and knew. Unfortunately, all of this technology went to the rich and the government. The poor were kept in the dark, stumbling along while believing political lies. Celebrities only existed to distract the masses from what was really going on right in front of them.

There were several examples of this hidden technology; such as invisible flying cameras, only a dot in the air. Some were the size of a fly and were activated and controlled wirelessly. They used air pressure in ways Ceol could not understand; even if he read about them, everything seemed too complicated for him. Not that he'd admit he didn't understand; Mr. Koller had been more than happy to 'lend' the manual on how to use the cameras, when in actuality he threw the manuals out.

Ceol had also read about the Chameleon Blimp; an aircraft that could mask itself as the sky, but its floor was really one of the most amazing things Ceol had ever read about. He wanted to see it someday. The blimp had a glass floor, which showed a holographic map of the layout of the battlefield. It also showed the Ardents that were running throughout the battlefield. According to the back of the manuals, it was an Ardent with a skill pertaining to technology that made the many toys the higher class and government used to enjoy themselves.

The old man was now walking towards Ceol, snapping him out of the thought process he loved to bury himself in. "It's not for my sake I'm saying this, boy. It's for yours." Ceol was calling bullshit on that.

All the man wanted, like any other Master, was to up his funding and Ardent collection. If Ceol won, then the Ardent that lost would be knocked out of the competition, forever. The old man wanted to use this as a gentle motivator for Ceol, but Ceol didn't want to be in a world which pitched a ten-year-old little girl just freshly taken from her family against a thirty-two-year-old beast of a man. It was always about the money.

That was the first match Ceol had ever watched; the man had sadistically ripped the little girl apart limb from limb, despite her cries of pain. This world, no, this universe was a disgusting place. Ceol knew what was going to happen to him, just by watching this match. Nothing could prepare him for the suffering he would feel, but it was better than living only to be forced to fight another day. This wasn't a situation where you 'tried it', where your parents tell you to try a food before saying you dislike it? Well, this time, the flavor of the food was murder, the parent was the old man, and the child refusing to taste a wisp of murder was Ceol.

Ceol ignored the old man, which seemed to send Mr. Koller into a rage beyond any other. "Fucking hell, boy!" Mr. Koller spat, stomping his foot on the ground and turning red in the face. "I don't enjoy yelling at you, but you wouldn't listen otherwise! You're going to win, understand?! Win!" As the old man had his temper-tantrum, a chime of unsettling, pure laughter echoed through the villa that only three inhabited.

He was sitting in a meadow; beautiful white lilies went as far as the eye could see. A man was walking through the lilies, trampling their beauty. For some reason, this angered Ceol, but he forgave the man's actions. His body rose against his will, and the two began to dance and spin around and around; even if there was no music, the woman's laughter seemed to be all the man needed. The man smiled, and his face inched closer. When Ceol blinked, he was back to being harassed by the old man. "You refuse your studies, you don't want anything..." Again, his consciousness faded with the sound of footsteps filling his head, like an echo.

He was rushing through the streets of a town that looked like it was from 1960; lamps dimly lit the cobblestone that he was running on. His bare feet hit the ground, making a familiar slapping sound. Looking back, he didn't understand what was chasing him, but he knew that there was something back there. Finally, he looked forwards, satisfied with seeing nothing behind him. He was stopped by a woman and a man who were in elite-looking clothing; the man with a top hat and a trench coat, the woman in a ball gown. The woman tutted, gently resting a hand on her face while the man reached towards Ceol...

Once again, Ceol was back to being lectured.

"It's like you don't want to live..."

There was a throbbing feeling in the frontal lobe of his brain, one that wouldn't go away. It wasn't painful, and it wasn't a headache, but it was reacting to these strange visions. His eyes faded to the melody of a lullaby, and he found himself lying down in a bed in a strange room. The room was filled with at least three hundred teddy bears; they covered the floors, the beds, the surfaces... they seemed to be placed in a way where he could see each and every single one. His mouth opened and a somber yet beautifully sung lullaby began to flow from his lips; he was attempting a form of sleep, any way to escape from the nightmare that was here. The door swung open, and a bigger woman in a tight dress entered with three men and two women following her.

"And you don't even seem to be thankful to me for taking you out of the life of a poor man, you don't want anything..."

Ceol's hands crashed down onto the keys of a piano, playing a melody with no equal. His fingers flew across the keys, and the sound of a door opening caused Ceol to stop and turn to said door; a woman entered, her face alight with a greedy type of pleasure.

"Ceol, I am doing this because I care..."

Another sound caught Ceol's attention, one that sounded so far, yet so near. The crying; the endless crying. It filled him with a type of torment he couldn't understand, and he grabbed his head, his fingernails digging into his hair. "Stop crying." He whispered thinly, his entire face paling. A sickening feeling resided deep inside Ceol's stomach; if he had lunch, it would have been gone by now.

"Ceol, are you even listening to me?!" The old man's weathered hand grasped Ceol's wrist. Ceol could see his lips moving, but there was no sound coming from Mr. Koller. It was only the endless wailing coming from the sky...

"It's so annoying..." Ceol murmured, his voice reaching a higher pitch. He couldn't understand why this voice was crying; he also couldn't identify it as male or female, either. If he'd been able to explain it at the time, he'd probably say it was a child.

"Excuse me, you ungrateful little wretch!?"

Ceol tensed up; the crying only got louder. "Shut up. Get over it." He snarled, biting down on his lip. He couldn't hear anything else over the wailing... and then, the voice spoke to him. It was gentle, and it sounded lonely, perhaps even sad.

"Why are you so mean to me?" The voice certainly hadn't come from the old man, and it wasn't anything like Anry's voice. The owner of the voice was in no way human; the gentle tone was something humanity was incapable of. However, the childlike innocence of the voice was something to be noted; it was young, but it was not inexperienced. Why was the voice crying? Who used such a gentle voice?

"Ceol, I need you to understand this; I don't know what the Ardent will be like. I don't know their powers, either. You need to listen to me, Ceol, for your sake and your sake alone." Ceol's eyes shifted to the old man. The voice was completely gone now, the presence stale. He had been annoyed for some time now, but he was done with the old man especially. He knew that Mr. Koller would do anything to get his abilities to show, so in order to prevent the old man from doing something crazy, he'd simply tell him about the weird things that were going on. Maybe that had something to do with the trip for power.

"I've been experiencing strange things for a while now." His voice was quiet and calm; if he agitated Koller, he'd be in the doghouse for a while. He was already being forced to fight to the death, so he didn't want to make his life any harder on himself.

"Strange things? Like what?" It was now Mr. Koller's turn to become a ghastly shade of white; he wanted more than anything to know about Ceol's ability. Ceol would give him exactly what he wanted.

"I've been seeing things and places, and I've been experiencing the world through another person's eyes. I know things about people that I've never met."

"That's not helping me, Ceol." The old man's tone was bitter; of course, he only cared about his own steps forward and his alone. Ceol couldn't take being in such a close vicinity to the wrinkled plum; he withdrew his hand from the old one that grasped it and walked to the other end of the patio. He sat down, rather roughly, on a wicker chair that faced the beach. He stared at the rolling waves; such a beautiful place, but it was owned by an asshole. The irony, he guessed. Almost everything was ironic and moronic if you looked close enough.

Mr. Koller scowled, standing. He had never liked the child, but this was too much. He quickly passed through the ornate glass doors, walking into an arched hallway. He couldn't cancel his entry; he had just barely entered the contest. He was a newer millionaire, and the others treated him like a newborn. However, his reputation was rising faster, owning an airport franchise and quite a few shares in oil. He had also quite a bit of luck with the stock market. His investments proved to be an absolute success; he had risen higher and gotten further than most in the game.

Koller's only true obstacle at this point was getting Ceol to do what he needed him to do. Unfortunately, it seemed like Ceol would not develop him powers in time for the match. To Koller, that meant becoming not only the laughingstock of the high-class community, but also losing the ten million dollars he had used to find Ceol... and the sixty million he used to bribe the 'Gardening Club.' He had heard rumors, but to find that they were using people with strange abilities... before, he had only assumed it was a fighting ring in which the high class chose people to represent them in illegal fights. Now that he was in the death game, he couldn't back out of it. Koller would make Ceol gain his powers; Ceol had no idea of the darkness that lay behind the Gardening Club.

~ ? ? ? ~

A lone ring of figures stood around a blue, glowing light, their cloaks covered in strange markings that didn't seem to mean anything. Their robes were red on black, which for some reason, was the norm for those who did dark things. Their faces were unintelligible from every angle, their hoods covering everything but their mouth. If a normal human being were to see them, they'd instantly assume they'd have walked in on a cult meeting. Only the blue light of the hologram revealed a small portion of their faces, and even then, only their mouth.

"He asked to enter, and gave me a small sum. Now, he can't even get his first Ardent to awaken?" One of the cloaked ones spoke, their tone full of superiority and hatred. This one's voice was deep, rough. He seemed to be a very angry man, one to jump the gun and judge you before you even realized he was there.

"Calm yourself, Seven." A second voice entered the fray, disapproval obvious. Her voice was mature; one that would make any man's heart beat madly fast. Just from the sound, Seven was rendered speechless for a small amount of time. "If I recall, your first Ardent was a late bloomer as well; it grew from seed to flower only three days before you started your first battle."

Seven snarled; who was this bitch, to insult him so carelessly? He gave a nasty grin in her direction. He had connections; he'd find out who she was later. "I'm positive he can't do it." He'd make her regret talking to him like a child.

"Well, aren't you just the most perfect man in the world, mister Seven..?" This voice was more feminine than the last, and it purred; it almost lulled Seven to sleep.

"Three, keep your eyes only on me." Seven froze; this wasn't really the best way to start off his morning, stuck in a meeting with people like this. The voice that had growled at Three seemed even more pissed off than Seven was, if that was possible.

"Four, baby, you know my eyes are only for you." Three's voice was even more seductive before, with a special tone she used only for Four. It was obvious that Four was her dedicated life partner, a totem that kept her from straying. Seven snarled; such stupidity. A whore by any other name is still a whore.

"Disgusting. Everything is disgusting!" He cried, pissed off. He couldn't stand this meeting. He couldn't stand these people. He threw his hands into the air as if to back up his ideals. "Humans! Filthy fucking humans!"

"What is this commotion?"

The cloaked figures quickly turned towards the voice; stairs lit up with the same blue glow as the floor. Some of the contestants gasped in awe while others remained silent. It was quite the rarity for him to join the meetings. His cloak was different than the rest; it was silver and gold, with different inscriptions than the rest.

"Gamemaster." They all bowed to him, a sign of absolute respect in the circle.

"Players," He replied, walking down the stairs. Each step echoed, becoming a heavy weight on everyone's shoulders. "What is this commotion?" His voice was deep and powerful, commanding respect even from Seven. Seven broke into a cold sweat; the Gamemaster could smell his fear, and Seven knew it. He was nothing more than a dirty coward.

Three bowed as far as she could, any seduction disappearing from her voice. "Nothing, Gamemaster."

He sighed, annoyed. "Player One?" He turned to the silent sentinel, and at this point, everyone who had been causing the commotion was in fear. One had a total of four Ardents. This was over the course of twenty years, and all were next to perfect. To go against One was to lose an Ardent... and despite his impressive numbers, he was still nicknamed the Gamemaster's hound.

They had set up Player Thirteen, Mr. Koller, against Ten. Ten might be weak himself, but his Ardent was no joke. Thirteen would be removed from out of the game, and his memories and fortune would be removed from his greedy little grasp. The game had risks; not that they had told Thirteen said risks. They only told him what would happen to his Ardent. Some felt bad for Thirteen; Thirteen was such an unlucky number, after all.

"They believe that Thirteen is a fool." His voice was young; he had to be younger than twenty-five. Despite his age, he had the wisdom of someone much older. One only said what was needed; for that, he was respected, and feared.

"And you believe this?" The Gamemaster waited for a response. Seven almost bitterly laughed; the Gamemaster was playing favorites again.

"Thirteen is a fool, but his Ardent is something new." With this, several people began to get curious.

"How is Thirteen's Ardent something new?" Seven growled, sick of being showed up by idiots. He hated the fact that One got all of the attention when he was really just repeating what had already been said.

"It's something I haven't seen before. Normally, our Ardents are insane by the time we remove them from their familial units because of our Violence and Silence Protocol."

"S.E.E. would be after us before we could learn what the Ardent could do if we let the families live. Get to the damn point, One." Seven was in a really bad mood now.

"As you know, I am registered for four Ardents. However, I have a fifth Ardent that is banned from the game due to her abilities and issues. I will end the rumors about her here; She knows all, and the knowledge invades her head at such a high speed that she can barely form a sentence." This caused people to tense up; that would mean his Ardent would be under the Tactical category, as a Knowledge Type. Knowledge types were hated by everyone; they always managed to find out things that nobody wanted them to know. However, they were also extremely useful. "She's simply a pet that cannot make a sound. However, three days ago, she formed not a sentence, but a paragraph. That alone is enough to have me concerned. To recount her words to you is a simple feat; I myself have been pondering over them ever since they came from her lips. 'That child is like none that have come before; he loves his parents, but there are no tears. Not even internal tears; how can he watch with a straight face, without even a glimpse of expression? That child is different; can that child actually be something else? Is that child truly real, or perhaps is he a dream within a dream?"

"You fucking retard!" Seven yelled, and everyone turned to him. Almost everyone knew that this had been coming; Seven was easily agitated unless he was on top. And with One being who he is, to Seven, that's a problem. He had finally snapped. "We can't understand your stupid Ardent if she speaks in riddles!"

"I do not have knowledge of what the riddle means, but she believes that he is a dream within a dream." One was quite calm; even if he did not like the atmosphere, he did not play the game because he wanted to hang out with the higher class. He was making a living off this, but there was another reason, a reason that stung him deeply. He assumed Thirteen had a similar reason; nobody was here without something that kept them there, and nobody played the game for kicks and excitement alone.

~ C e o l ~

Ceol walked over to his wardrobe, flashes of memories that weren't his clouding his mind. He knew that it would continue this way as long as he existed, and just the thought of endurance made him sigh. He knew with the coming battle that it would soon be over.

A flash caused him to close his eyes for only a moment, but when he opened them again, his arms were restrained to his sides with a straight-jacket. He was lying on his side, and every inch of him ached. The floor was uncomfortable, and he needed to get up. Heavy chains restrained him, however, and he could not move. "When do I get to kill?" He asked, looking up at a smartly dressed man who had just entered the little white room that he resided in. This voice was not Ceol; this voice was gruff and dark, filled with hatred and suffering. "Demitri?"

The man standing in the white suit was handsome, his hair slicked back with gel. He had a winner's smile; he seemed to be about as old as a college student, perhaps just freshly out himself. His skin was well-cared for, not a sign of acne anywhere. Perhaps he had been rich his entire life, giving him access to only the best care products. However, what chilled Ceol was not how perfect the man's skin was, but the man's smile. It was plastered on his face, a catlike grin. This was the smile of a man with secrets, dangerous secrets.

"That comes soon, my friend." Ceol struggled against the chains, his impatience almost outweighing the physical weight on him. This wasn't him; this was another person doing this, and it was happening right now. He was in a different place entirely; this was not his open, breezy room in front of the ocean somewhere in a sunny country.

"Did you find who killed my wife and child?" He growled. There were waves of guilt, hatred, sadness and regret. Ceol could almost sympathize with the man; there were no limits to the rage that the one in chains held.

Demitri ran a single hand through his hair, and then fixed his white tie. He adjusted the collar of his black undershirt, which went perfectly against the white suit. He seemed to be buying time. For some reason, Demitri was wearing sunglasses that were as white as his suit, as if the whiteness of the room would blind him had he attempted to take them off or enter without them. He gave a large smile; his teeth seemed whiter than their surroundings, which was generally impossible. He was textbook perfection.

"We did indeed. His name is Ceol, and he's an Ardent. He just entered the Game." With that slight bit of information, Ceol could feel rage. Every bit of it was directed at him; he almost began to tremble. What did Demitri have against Ceol? Why would he direct this person's rage at Ceol? The chains began to groan as the person who Ceol's perspective was through ripped them to shreds with a slight movement.

"Let me be the one to do it." He growled, infuriated. Shivers ran down Ceol's spine; this man had a death-wish, and it was directed at Ceol himself. "I beg you."

"Patience, friend. If he survives his first match, we're next. Also, we have to survive our next match, which is versus Three."

"This match is nothing more than a stepping stone. I'll wreck anyone who gets in my way."

Demitri smiled, a smile that made Ceol sick to his stomach. This was exactly what Demitri wanted to hear. There was desperation rolling off of the man whose eyes Ceol was seeing through; he would obey and listen to Demitri for as long as needed.

"Good."

Ceol was back in his room, where he was shocked at what he had seen. What kind of revenge would someone like that person have in mind for him? He shivered, but he shook it off. The more people angry at him, the sooner he would just die and get it over with. Yes, this was for the best. Even if Demitri was setting up a ploy that would kill Ceol, it was fine. He would die someday, as anyone else did. Preferably not in complete agony, but he lost control over the way he was going to die when the old man got his wrinkled hands on him.

One would be able to call Ceol suicidal with ease, but that was not the correct term. He was more unwilling to live than suicidal. He didn't want to die, but he felt like death would be better to embrace than to resist. He couldn't stand his current state of being, but he wasn't as much of a coward as to hang himself. The old man was a good judge of character, so he hadn't removed any objects from the environment. He was wise enough to know that this child was too proud to kill himself.

Ceol slid out of his jeans and T-shirt, walking into his ornate bathroom. He was too lazy to pick up the mess behind him; besides, that's what maids were for. If he was being forced to die in a crazy death match, he sure as hell wasn't picking up after himself. The bathroom was filled to the brim with marble and porcelain; it was a bathroom fit for a dirty politician. He turned the water to cold, and watched as it rained down onto the tiled bathroom floor.

Ceol walked into the cold shower, ignoring the impulses his body was sending him for a jump-back reaction. He didn't need things like instinct, not when death was so near. He needed to know this wasn't a dream; the cold water was almost painful to him. He took a deep breath, shuddering ever so slightly, and collapsed to the floor, sobbing.


End file.
